Chapter 29 Who Beat Her Up Like This
Isabella lowered her gaze, shutting them out completely.
Scarlett saw it and felt her temper spike.
How could a useless woman like this stay at William's side, marry him, and wear the title Mrs. Spencer?
She tilted her wine glass without bothering to hide it, and the cold liquid splashed across Isabella's dress.
"Oh, didn't see you standing there. You okay?"
The feigned surprise dripped with arrogance, not a trace of concern.
Isabella didn't look at her. She simply reached for a few napkins, blotting the soaked fabric.
Scarlett pressed down on her hand, leaning in, eyes glinting with malice.
That face—the one that had men hooked—made her burn with jealousy.
She glanced back at the women watching, her chin lifted high.
"Tell me, who's prettier, me or Isabella?"
Her friends laughed, voices sharp.
"Scarlett, even if you hate her, no need to humiliate yourself. Obviously she's prettier."
"Exactly. Why compare faces? She uses hers to get men. We're nothing like her."
Scarlett's smile was cold. "If she didn't have that face, would Mr. Spencer even look at her?"
Isabella caught the intent and rose to leave, but was shoved back into her seat.
"Don't touch my face."
They could humiliate her all they wanted, but William had made it clear—her face had to stay intact.
Scarlett saw defiance and slapped her hard.
"I'll do whatever I want. You're nothing but a cheap tease who survives on her looks. Tonight I'm going to ruin that face and see if Mr. Spencer still keeps you."
Isabella's head snapped to the side. She turned back slowly.
"I'm not lying. If you damage my face, William won't let you walk away."
Scarlett sneered. "You think you matter? I was on that yacht the day Mr. Spencer shoved you overboard. He didn't care if you lived or died. And just now, when everyone insulted you, he acted like he didn't hear."
William might not care about her life, but he cared about her face.
Isabella stood again, trying to leave, but was blocked.
"Looks like you still don't know your place. Drag her over there. Let's make her understand."
The hall was crowded; Scarlett didn't want a scene in front of everyone. She waved, and hands grabbed Isabella, dragging her toward the corner.
Isabella looked toward William. Their eyes met briefly. She opened her mouth to call out, but he turned away.
He saw it. And he allowed it...
Shoved into the corner, Isabella's face showed no panic—only emptiness.
"Hold her."
Hands clamped down, pinning her to the wall.
Scarlett crossed her arms, towering over her, disgust deepening.
"Tonight I'm going to destroy you. You'll remember this forever."
Her hand swung again, nails grazing skin on purpose, eager to tear it open.
Thin lines of blood welled up. It wasn't enough. More slaps followed.
A sharp crack.
Another.
And another.
The blows came fast, swelling Isabella's face, the cuts now vivid.
Someone shifted uneasily. "Ms. Campbell, this could cause trouble. She's here with Mr. Spencer."
"I think that's enough. Let it go."
Scarlett was too caught up in the thrill to stop.
"What are you afraid of? Mr. Spencer just called me beautiful. He remembers me. Everyone knows he hates her. I'm doing him a favor."
"And without her, I could be Mrs. Spencer. You'd all benefit—hold her down!"
Isabella's ears rang with each hit, the world muffled. She couldn't make out their words.
The slaps kept coming. Her body trembled. The grip on her arms loosened.
"Forget it. I'm done. What if something happens?"
Scarlett refused to quit. She grabbed Isabella's hair.
"You won't do it? I will. She's going to remember tonight."
Her arm lifted—then a cold voice cut through the air.
"Stop!"
"What the hell are you doing?"
Scarlett froze. The others turned. It wasn't William, and relief flickered.
Scarlett studied the man. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place him.
"Better stay out of it. This is personal."
Thomas strode forward, fury in his eyes, shoving the women back.
"You dare lay a hand on her?"
Isabella saw him and felt a flicker of shame, not wanting him to witness her like this.
Scarlett noted his presence—his bearing screamed influence—but she wasn't afraid.
"Sir, you don't know her. She's a master at playing the victim. We just got tired of it."
Thomas's gaze hardened, cold enough to make Scarlett's stomach twist.
"Forget it. If you want to protect her, we'll let her go."
She started to leave, but Thomas's voice stopped her.
"Did I say you could walk away? You think you can hurt my friend and leave?"
Scarlett scoffed. "You expect me to apologize? Dream on."
She was a society darling. Apologizing to someone like Isabella was unthinkable.
Thomas's fists clenched. Isabella tugged lightly at his sleeve, not wanting a scene.
Scarlett's smirk deepened. She began to turn—then footsteps cut through the noise, heavy with menace.
"What happened here?"
William's voice was ice, freezing the air. Every body in the circle went rigid.
Scarlett's breath slowed as she caught him in her peripheral vision.
He stopped in front of Isabella, eyes locking on the blood and swelling. His whole presence darkened.
His stare was lethal.
"Who touched her?"
Each word was ground out, sharp enough to draw blood.
Silence. His tone dropped lower. "Then every one of you involved disappears from this world."
Someone broke. "Mr. Spencer, it was Scarlett. She said she wanted to teach her a lesson."
"Yeah, we tried to stop her. She wouldn't listen. This has nothing to do with us."
Scarlett's face drained of color. She glared at the ones betraying her, teeth clenched.